


and in the back i keep a spare tire

by harperuth



Series: i keep shit safe so i'm never sorry [4]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Verbal Humiliation, aft play, mentions of Deadlock/Hot Rod/Grimlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:20:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24765316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harperuth/pseuds/harperuth
Summary: “Mkay,” Hot Rod agreed, “Hey.”Deadlock moved his arm and caught Hot Rod’s optics. Hot Rod kissed him, “I’m serious. You should fuck my aft.”- - -Or, Deadlock does just that.
Relationships: Drift | Deadlock/Hot Rod
Series: i keep shit safe so i'm never sorry [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1626400
Comments: 21
Kudos: 121





	and in the back i keep a spare tire

**Author's Note:**

> this series is so fun, i just look at tmg lyrics and go "what could that be the title of." anyway i think at this point between ratchet and grimlock the boys are using a lot more human terminology, particularly swear words, because that's ratchet's favorite language, and nothing tosses ice on sex like yelling your partner's brother's name while 'facing him. (sorry slag)
> 
> title, in perpetuity, is from 'stay safe' by tiny meat gang

Hot Rod paused in his ministrations and pulled off, “You should put your spike in my aft.”

Deadlock made a strangled noise and overloaded. Hot Rod grinned, transfluid splashing his chin and intake. Deadlock vented heavily, “You fucking cheater.”

“Nah,” Hot Rod gave Deadlock’s spike a kiss, “I wasn’t trying anything, just wanted to say it before I forgot again.”

Deadlock threw an arm over his optics, “You’ve been _thinking_ about this.”

“Well yeah,” Hot Rod pushed up and collapsed on Deadlock’s chassis, pushing his own spike against Deadlock’s hip joint lazily, “I think about ‘facing you a lot.”

Deadlock’s vocalizer produced a moment of static. Hot Rod’s grin stretched a little wider. They were finally back on light duty shifts; their sparks stabilized enough to stretch for several shifts so long as they were within a certain proximity. It shouldn’t have made that much of a difference, but even monitor duty and patrol shifts had Hot Rod a little antsy.

“I hate you,” Deadlock groaned, and Hot Rod continued to roll his hips. It was nice to _know_ , in his spark, that Deadlock didn’t mean it, that Deadlock _liked_ him, “Stop that. Put your spike in me.”

“Mkay,” Hot Rod agreed, shifting enough to drop between Deadlock’s legs and position his spike against his valve entrance, “Hey.”

Deadlock moved his arm and caught Hot Rod’s optics. Hot Rod kissed him, “I’m serious. You should fuck my aft.”

Hot Rod was 90% sure Deadlock’s groan was from his words and not him sinking into his valve, but he was gonna take it.

\- - -

Hot Rod crept through the doorway to their hab, not bothering to turn the lights up. 

His spark cycled like the early days of their meetings. Deadlock’s comm had been short-burst, their old encryption code, and nothing more than a set of coordinates. Hot Rod didn’t switch his headlights on, walking forward until he was in the middle of their hab, no protections around him, and waited.

His valve cycled. Hot Rod vented slowly, his audials turned up. There was a noise to his left. Hot Rod turned to his right.

Deadlock dropped down on him from the ceiling, “Like I’d use the same ruse twice.”

“Fuck,” Hot Rod gasped, array jumping several levels in his urgency queue.

“That’s the idea, _Autobot_ ,” Deadlock growled. Hot Rod groaned. Deadlock planted a servo on the joint that connected his spoiler to his back strut, moving the rest of his weight off. Hot Rod couldn’t stop his automatic response of tipping his hips back and up. 

“So the rumors are true,” Deadlock growled, “I’d heard that you were _easy_.”

Hot Rod moaned, “Just for you.”

“Are you my slut?” Deadlock asked softly, the servo not pinning Hot Rod trailing down his back, “Only wet for me? Or would any ‘Con be enough to wet your panel?”

“Fuck,” Hot Rod gasped, pushing his hips up again.

“Is that it?” Deadlock’s tone was so even, Hot Rod felt like he was going to implode already, “‘Cons just light you up? I bet you’ve let half the army fuck you.”

Hot Rod shivered, his conjecture engine working hard at the imagery. Deadlock sitting to the side watching while his, his _lessers_ fucked Hot Rod one by one. He shook his helm as much as he was able, “Still yours.”

Affection flooded the bond, soft and safe. Hot Rod nearly offlined at the contrast, it was that good. He held on by the barest scraping of digits. Deadlock scoffed, “All the same, that valve of yours must be useless.”

Hot Rod couldn’t stop the grin at his words. It was kind of true. They’d finally managed to talk Grimlock into letting his spike out, and Hot Rod knew Deadlock had arranged the timing of Hot Rod’s last spiking by Grimlock with this evening.

Grimlock was careful, so careful, and attentive and affectionate and a lot of other words that generally awed Hot Rod regularly, but it didn’t stop his spike from being fucking huge. Both Hot Rod and Deadlock needed several days for their valves to recover after taking it. 

Grimlock had spiked him yesterday. Hot Rod’s valve was still visibly stretched.

Deadlock’s digits scraped at his panel, “Open.”

Hot Rod transformed his panels away. Deadlock’s digits poked roughly at his tender mesh and Hot Rod flinched away, “Just like I thought. Used up.”

Hot Rod groaned, “I—”

“Slut,” Deadlock growled, vocalizer derisive but the bond pulsed with nothing but fondness. His digits trailed up from Hot Rod’s valve to his aft port, “Or perhaps there’s some use in you yet.”

“Please,” Hot Rod said, “Yours. Just for you. Good for you.”

Hot Rod felt Deadlock melt over the bond. It made it that much easier for him to relax into his hold, let his hydraulics release. Deadlock’s digits rubbed at his aft port, “Just for me. Good mech.”

Hot Rod’s vents hiccuped on a sob. Deadlock’s servo shifted enough to curl digits around his spoiler, the digits on his other servo still rubbing back and forth over his port. Hot Rod widened his legs a little more.

The digits on his port disappeared and reappeared just as quickly, this time slippery. Hot Rod’s fans whined up to their highest setting. Deadlock hummed, “Aren’t you sweet? Do you like getting your aft fondled.”

“Yeah,” Hot Rod said, vocalizer nearly staticked beyond recognition. There wasn’t even anything _in him yet_ and he felt _wrecked_.

Then the digits went away.

“Hey—” Hot Rod tried to twist around to see, but Deadlock moved lightning quick and Hot Rod’s servos were suddenly locked tight in cuffs that he hadn’t even _seen_. Deadlock had thought of _everything_ and something in Hot Rod shivered and...gave up, “Oh.”

“Good mech,” Deadlock murmured, both servos free and trailing down Hot Rod’s frame. He ducked down close and put his mouth to Hot Rod’s audial, “Okay, Roddy?”

“Yeah,” Hot Rod vented back, and wrapped his digits around the tether holding the cuffs in place. Deadlock pressed a kiss to his temple and drew back again, digits tracing maddening patterns across his plating, dipping into seams and tweaking wires as they went. Hot Rod sunk into the sensations, “Yeah.”

Hot Rod was still shivering at the sensation of Deadlock’s clawed digits in his primary lateral transformation seam when a different digit sunk into his aft port. His grip on the tether tightened, “Oh frag.”

“Nice and tight,” Deadlock growled, pushing deeper into both port and seam, leaning up to just press his teeth against Hot Rod’s spoiler. Hot Rod writhed. He pushed down against the floor, realizing belatedly that his spike had pressurized at some point, desperate for any friction or answering charge against it. The angle meant his valve was dripping lubricant down the length of it, beading at the end with pre-fluid to stretch down to the floor, “Not for long I guess.”

“Deadlock,” Hot Rod gasped as another digit sunk into his port on the next in stroke. His frame tensed autonomically, pressing against the intrusion. Deadlock did take his spoiler between his teeth this time, pressing in at his port gently, thumbing softly around the rim as he moved. They’d done two before, and it always froze Hot Rod’s systems until he found the right command lines to dismiss.

He poked around until his hydraulics depressurized, the rest of his frame slowly relaxing as well. Deadlock kept his motions small until Hot Rod’s protomesh stopped pushing back at his digits. His digits started moving deeper as he stretched Hot Rod, “Good mech.”

Hot Rod’s processor crystallized and everything fell away except Deadlock. Hot Rod pushed back into his digits, “Mm.”

“Yeah?” Deadlock spread his digits slightly and Hot Rod felt his protomesh give with them. Hot Rod turned his head and laid it down to keep half an optic on Deadlock, his chassis following and propping his hips up even more. Deadlock licked across spoiler, “So easy for me.”

A third digit flirted with Hot Rod’s port rim each time Deadlock drew his digits back. Hot Rod shivered, pressing back against them before the next instroke, “‘Nother.”

Deadlock’s digits drew back completely and his servo stung Hot Rod’s exposed protomesh when it came down, “You don’t get to decide that.”

“Please,” Hot Rod whined, “Deadlock—”

Three digits pushed into his aft and Hot Rod keened, frame stretching as he pushed back to take them as deep as possible. Deadlock voice was awed, “Roddy. Holy shit.”

Hot Rod whined, a wordless, desperate sound that he barely recognized and rolled his hips back. Deadlock moved with him, pressing his digits deeper, stretching Hot Rod’s protomesh in the best way. Hot Rod scrabbled, gripping the tether again as he sunk into the sensation. Three, three was new. He felt hot and cold all over as his frame struggled to acclimate to the new data input.

“Good mech,” Deadlock choked out and Hot Rod shuddered, his plating chiming audibly as it shuffled, “So good.”

“Fuck,” Hot Rod vented, pushing back again. Deadlock got with the program and moved his digits, pressing and stretching and taking Hot Rod to pieces. Hot Rod relaxed as his frame finally accepted the data as acceptable. 

There wasn’t any charge, no nodes in his port begging for answering connections. But the occasional downstroke pushed at the _back_ of a node in his valve and it was doing pretty well in driving his charge higher anyway. Deadlock resettled himself until he was sitting behind Hot Rod instead of next to him and traced his valve mesh. Hot Rod flinched away, pulling his hips inwards and pressing Deadlock’s digits _right against_ the back of that node.

Deadlock’s digits froze as Hot Rod groaned and clamped down, fans clicking up to full bore, “Oh? This charging you up? Having your aft fucked?”

“Deadlock,” Hot Rod panted, and Deadlock started moving his digits again, stretching them and him a little wider.

“Hips back, Roddy,” Deadlock pressed his other servo to Hot Rod’s lower back, “Come on.”

Hot Rod dropped back down, tilting his array back up towards Deadlock. Deadlock hummed, “Good mech. Stay just like that.”

Hot Rod whined but locked his joints as best he was able. He was still shuddering periodically as Deadlock’s digits moved in him. Deadlock’s other servo moved past his valve this time and gripped his pressurized and leaking spike, pulling it back. 

“Primus,” Hot Rod hissed, as the delicate mesh pulled just this side of uncomfortable. Deadlock kept his grip, thumb rubbing against the charge heavy nodes on the underside of his spike.

“Look at you,” Deadlock said, sounding delighted, “Every part of you back here for me to use.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Hot Rod tried to tip his hips back enough that his spike stopped pulling but Deadlock curled his digits in his aft and pressed at the back of _another_ node and Hot Rod’s hips jerked forward again, pulling his spike at an even harsher angle, “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“Stay,” Deadlock growled, clawed tip of his thumb flirting with Hot Rod’s transfluid channel, “Still.”

“Please,” Hot Rod begged, and he didn’t even know what _for_. His array felt like it was being pulled inside out and backwards for all the input paradoxes that were cropping up. He wanted it to stop. He never wanted it to stop, “Please, please, please—”

Deadlock scratched a line of fire down the top of his spike, claw dipping into his transfluid channel and pulling down as it went. Hot Rod convulsed and Deadlock dropped his spike, letting it spring back up to slap against his abdominal plating. The movement of his frame pushed Deadlock’s digits back against the nodes he could feel and for one agonizing moment Hot Rod was sure that he was about to overload.

He hung in the balance as his frame shuddered through a few shocks of bliss, Deadlock mercifully still inside him. Hot Rod came back eventually, panting and fans screaming. He managed to spit past the static of “You gotta— Needa fuck me _now_ , or show’s almost over.”

Deadlock didn’t reprimand him again, just extricated his digits and shuffled behind him, “Primus, fuck, Roddy, I thought you had overloaded for a second there. It looked like it; looked so good, you’re so smelting hot.”

Hot Rod shuddered, the abrupt change in tone doing nothing to help the precipice he was dangling on. Deadlock was nothing but heat and excitement across the bond, everything pouring into Hot Rod now that he had half a processing unit to pay attention to it.

Deadlock plastered himself over Hot Rod’s back, fangs once again resting against his spoiler, “Okay?”

“Do it,” Hot Rod tried to order, but he was sure it came off as nothing more than a whine. Deadlock dug his denta into Hot Rod’s spoiler and lined his spike up, pushing against Hot Rod’s port.

“Oh,” Hot Rod vented, as the protomesh finally widened and gave and—

There was a spike. In his aft. _Deadlock’s_ spike.

Deadlock pushed forward slowly, a whine escaping him from where he’d bit down on Hot Rod. Hot Rod tried to grasp anything beyond an enormity of feelings as Deadlock’s hips finally met his, the two of them pausing as their fans roared. Deadlock shifted minutely and it pressed his spike hard against the back of a node, at the same time that he released his denta and licked across Hot Rod’s spoiler with a muttered, “Good mech.”

Hot Rod _shattered_.

He was fairly certain he screamed, his entire frame locked as he shook apart from the inside out. Vaguely he was aware of _both_ his spike spilling transfluid and his valve trying to cycle down against a rush of lubricant, but the rest of him was caught up in the full-frame sensation of one of the more intense overloads of his _life_.

He eventually got around to a soft reboot, pulling his processing power back from the nothingness it had been floating in. Deadlock was sprawled out next to him, frame heaving as he pumped hot air out of his system. 

“Hey,” Hot Rod mumbled, loosening his joints and letting his hips hit the floor, wet spot below him be damned, “D’you—?”

“Yeah,” Deadlock said, staring wide-opticked at the ceiling, “Kind of...all over you. Uh, sorry.”

“S’good,” Hot Rod hummed, “Hey, uncuff me. Wanna cuddle.”

“Yeah,” Deadlock agreed, rolling over and plastering himself along Hot Rod’s side to fiddle at his cuffs.

\- - - 

“So, I think next time you should spike my aft after the first round,” Hot Rod hummed, pulling his face out of Deadlock’s valve.

“Primus fucking wept,” Deadlock sobbed, his valve clenching down visibly. Hot Rod looked down in fascination as he overloaded against nothing.

“Huh,” Hot Rod leaned down and licked over his node. Deadlock scrambled backwards.

“Fuck, stop,” he hissed, servos coming down to cup around his array, “You fucking jerk, that _sucked_ , why would you do that?”

“Do what?” Hot Rod grinned, rolling enough to the side to get a hand on his own node, rubbing it as Deadlock squirmed.

“ _Stop_ ,” Deadlock growled, throwing himself back down in a snit.

“You just told me to stop,” Hot Rod said, grin widening, fully leaning into it.

“Not _then_ , I—” Deadlock stopped and propped an elbow under himself, squinting at Hot Rod, “You fucker.”

“Not yet,” Hot Rod said, then squirmed against his digits, “Come on, help me out here.”

“No,” Deadlock _pouted_ , full on. Hot Rod couldn’t help the snicker that escaped. Deadlock narrowed his optics even further then pounced. He pushed Hot Rod flat on the berth, latching onto his anterior node and sucking _hard._

Hot Rod groaned, pushing up into him, overload rushing towards him quickly as Deadlock kept at it. Just as he tipped into it Deadlock pulled back and pinned his arms, leaving Hot Rod to clench and thrash against _nothing_.

“Not fair,” He sobbed, frame still humming but array feeling post-overload sensitive.

“Next time you have any smart ideas when your mouth is busy,” Deadlock growled, leaning down to kiss him, scraping his fangs against Hot Rod’s lip plates as he retreated, “ _Use your comm_.”

**Author's Note:**

> come yell at me about robots on twitter [@floralpunkcfb](https://twitter.com/floralpunkcfb)


End file.
